


Make This Feel Like Home

by lydiasbones



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, OT5, the boys are still together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiasbones/pseuds/lydiasbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nick grins, sharp and loud, and it brings Liam back, makes him feel grounded. Nick is still Nick, always. Liam wonders when he became so sure of that, when he started depending on it.</i>
</p><p>Or, snapshots of how Nick and Liam fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make This Feel Like Home

Liam finds himself in a hallway backstage, somewhere without any action. He’s going to vomit, he thinks.

He had to get away from the other boys. They were too excited, their nerves translating into hectic activity, and if Louis pinched Liam’s nipple one more time, Liam would lose his temper. 

It’s all _so much_ is the thing, and Liam doesn’t know why they won’t take it more seriously. They should be rehearsing, or concentrating, or _meditating_ —anything to make sure they’re at their best on stage. Liam shouldn’t be the only one worried about that.

He slides down the wall and puts his head between his knees, tries to take deep breaths. After his fifth breath, he hears a sympathetic noise, and Liam brings his head up so fast he feels a bit dizzy. 

There’s a man standing there, wide-faced and trendy. He looks like he fits in here, backstage at this nice venue. It makes Liam feel even more out of place before he’s finally able to remember—this is Nick Grimshaw, Harry’s friend. 

“Doing alright, there?” Nick asks. Liam doesn’t answer, and Nick winces. “Right, clearly not,” Nick says. 

Liam feels like he’s been rude. “Sorry,” he manages. “I’m—stressed, I suppose.” His voice is small. He clears his throat. 

Nick nods, says, “That’s alright. Bit of stress is good for you, I hear.” He runs a hand through his hair and smiles a bit.

He looks very understanding, and it makes Liam feel a bit more comfortable. He blurts, “I just want to be good.” It comes out more honest than he intends. 

Nick looks surprised by the admission for a moment before his face clears, soothing once again. “Everyone wants to be good,” Nick says, and if Liam were thinking clearly, maybe he’d understand that Nick is accustomed to taking care of Harry, and that the best way to take care of Harry is to make things feel normal. 

But Liam is nervous and scared and that just makes him feel ever sicker. It makes him feel like he’s not special, like there’s no way he can do something this big. He lets out a forced laugh, but even to him it sounds raw and choked and sad.

“Suppose I am quite normal, aren’t I?” Liam says. He tries a smile. 

Nick’s face falls. “That’s not—” Nick starts, but someone is calling Liam’s name and Liam is scrubbing at his eyes and standing up hastily. He straightens his shoulders as much as he can, but next to Nick, he still looks quite small. Feels small, too. 

“I have to head out,” Liam says, unnecessarily. 

Nick nods, looking a bit out of place himself. His eyes are on the line of tension in Liam’s shoulders. “You’re going to be great, Liam. Really.”

Liam tries to smile again, but it must still look rather grim, because Nick runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Thanks,” Liam says. And with that, he turns around and walks toward the woman who was calling him, shoulders still pulled back. 

Behind him, he hears Nick let out a low sigh. 

\--

3 YEARS LATER

“ _Payno_!” Louis shouts. “Here ya go.” He’s slurring, a shot of whiskey unsteady in his hands. Liam grabs it to makes sure it doesn’t spill and grimaces as Louis throws back his own. 

“I’ve had quite a bit already, mate,” Liam admits. Louis raises an eyebrow, and when Liam still doesn’t take the shot, he shrugs and grabs it, downing it himself. Liam sighs, but he knows he can’t keep the fondness off his face. He’ll be dragging Louis out of the club by the end of the night. Maybe he should go find and Alberto and warn him.

Louis runs off and before Liam can follow, he feels someone place a hand on his hip. When he turns, it’s Nick Grimshaw, grinning wide and looking a bit drunk himself. It’s a good look on him—his face is flushed and his hair is a little too wild, like he’s been running his hands through it tonight the night. 

“Liam Payne,” Nick announces, voice loud and clear. “Fancy seeing you here. I’d assumed you went to places much classier than this fine establishment.”

Liam tries not to look pleased that Nick’s thought about what kinds of establishments he went to. “Been a while, Grimmy,” he says. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing just fine,” Nick says, still grinning. “And you? Keep in mind that, for once, this isn’t an interview and you haven’t got to lie.”

Liam puts on his most serious face. “I don’t lie in interviews,” he intones, stern, and Nick’s face straightens for a moment before Liam can’t hold in his laughter any longer. 

Nick groans and steps back, but he’s laughing, too. “You really got me there, for a second,” he says. He’s silent for a bit, watching Liam, and Liam knows that Nick is usually the type to fill silences, but he must be quite out of it right now, because he’s just watching Liam and not saying a word. Liam desperately tries to think of what’s going on with Nick, of things Harry has mentioned lately. _Topman_ , he remembers.

“The clothes line thing,” Liam says. “That’s. That’s really cool.”

Nick grins, runs a hand through his hair. Liam can’t help but track his fingers. “Yeah?” Nick asks. “You going to wear some of my stuff on stage, then?”

Liam tries to stammer out an answer for a moment before Nick takes pity on him. 

“It’s alright, popstar,” Nick says, laughing. His lips are stained red. “How have you made it this far still trying to please everyone?”

Liam knows Nick’s joking, but it makes him feel a bit too hot for a moment, too laid bare. “Nothing wrong with trying to please people,” Liam manages. He thinks his voice is light, but Nick immediately looks apologetic. 

“I didn’t mean—” he starts, but Liam interrupts him. 

“No, it’s fine, I know you didn’t,” he says. “Hey, let me buy you a drink.” 

Liam immediately feels flustered for having said it. Did he sound like he was flirting? He wasn’t. He’s just—a little bit tipsy, probably. He’s acting strange. But Nick doesn’t even flinch, says, “I thought you’d never ask, popstar,” and leads the way to the bar. 

Nick leans against the bar and runs his hands through his hair again, leaving it further askew. He looks good, looks like someone has taken him out back and roughed him up a little, pressed him against wall and kissed him breathless. Liam shakes the thought out of his head, leans closer to Nick to be heard.

“What’ll you have?” he asks. 

Nick grins, leans in a bit closer and replies, “Whatever you’re having.” 

Liam frowns, remembers Harry saying something about Nick loving tequila. He catches the bartender’s attention and orders a beer for himself and a Tequila Sunrise for Nick. 

Nick pouts when the bartender hands him the drink, looks at Liam’s beer and asks, “Don’t think I’m laddy enough for you, Payne?” Before Liam can apologize, Nick laughs and says, “It’s true. I’m not,” and takes a swig. 

It makes Liam feel inadequate for a moment, like he’s too laddy, not enough like Harry to be close to someone like Nick. He wonders why he cares. He fingers the edges of his flannel. 

“Will you be at our concert tomorrow night?” Liam asks, unable to stop himself. 

If Nick is surprised by the change of subject, he doesn’t show it. He says, “Of course, can’t miss a performance by _the_ One Direction. Think of all the teenage girls who would kill for the chance.”

Before Liam can respond, Louis’ voice is directly in his ear. “Oi, Payno!” Louis throws an arm around Liam’s shoulder, and it’s heavy enough that Liam knows it’ll be time to take Louis home soon. “Why _aren’t_ you plastered yet, mate?” He’s grinning wide at Liam. 

“Tomlinson,” Nick greets, raising his drink a bit. Louis turns to Nick and raises an eyebrow, but he nods politely before he turns back to Liam and tugs on his wrist. 

“Come on, mate,” he urges. “I’ve found us some nice girls.” He grins, dirty. 

Liam wants to stay and chat with Nick, actually, but he nods uselessly and says, “Yeah, give me a second,” and turns back to Nick, unsure of what to say. 

“It was good seeing you, Grimmy,” he tries, aware of Louis’ eyes still on him. 

Nick takes another swig of his drink. “You too, popstar,” he replies easily. Liam tries not to react to the nickname. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Make ‘em scream, yeah?” And with a sharp grin, he turns and walks away. 

Liam feels a bit dizzy. He lets Louis drag him off.

\--

The concert is ecstatic, warm and loud and all-encompassing as always. It makes Liam feel invincible every time. Makes him feel like the world would stop without him. 

Every time Liam glances over, Nick is watching them, bright-eyed and grinning and dancing along shamelessly. He sings along to their more popular songs and clearly doesn’t know a single lyric to the album tracks, but he dances even harder to make up for it. 

He’s magnetic. Liam hardly feels his own presence on stage, feels like he’s the one watching Nick perform. 

\--

There’s a party the next night that their publicist asked them all to go to, and when Liam gets tired of talking to people who are pretending to have listened to his music, he slips outside to the balcony, glass of champagne in hand. He can’t remember how many of these he’s had by now, which probably means he’s had one too many. He tosses back this last one anyway. 

He finds Nick on the balcony, taking drags of a cigarette he’s holding between his index finger and thumb. He’s sitting on a bench that’s draped in vines, and he looks almost picturesque. 

“Didn’t think you were the type to escape the hype of a party,” Liam says before he can stop himself. Nick turns at his voice, and for a moment, the moonlight catches his face in a way that strikes Liam to his bones. Then Nick grins, sharp and loud, and it brings Liam back, makes him feel grounded. Nick is still Nick, always. 

Liam wonders when he became so sure of that, when he started depending on it. 

“Popstar,” Nick says, voice warm, but something about it grinds in Liam’s stomach, makes him feel a bit sick. 

“That’s what you call Harry,” Liam says, voice accusing. Christ, he’s a bit drunk. Nick nods.

Liam shakes his head and says, “It’s not for me. It’s his.” The words feel too heavy in Liam’s mouth, too cumbersome to be held there. “Don’t—I should get my own.”

Nick smiles, and it looks a bit surprised. He tilts his head and the moonlight hits him again, and Liam is startled once more by how Nick looks. Liam is used to being around pretty people by now, but Nick is different. Nick feels warmer and wilder, somehow. Like he’s just out of reach but still there, still present. He feels physical. 

“Palpable,” Liam says. He’d learned the word recently—Zayn had taught it to him, he thinks. 

Nick looks so beautiful. “Palpable?” he asks. He must be much less drunk than Liam. When Liam doesn’t respond, Nick lets out an amused huff and pats the spot on the bench next to him. “Sit down, Liam,” he says. His voice is soft. 

Liam walks over agreeably, his feet a bit unsteady. He feels like he’s just over the ground, not actually touching it. When he sits next to Nick, he says, “I like that. I like you just saying my name.”

Liam wonders if he’s going on about it. He does that sometimes, he knows—keeps going past when he should. The tweets always come in afterwards: _When will Liam stop talking so much? Can’t he let the other boys speak for once?_

The other boys don’t want to, is the thing. The other boys don’t want to give the same answers they’ve been taught to give, don’t want to repeat their media training over and over for days on end. Liam doesn’t mind it, so long as it takes the burden off his boys.

“Couldn’t do it without our Liam,” Harry says after interviews sometimes, grinning tiredly and patting Liam on the chest. 

But Nick doesn’t seem like he’s getting bored. He doesn’t seem annoyed. He just smiles, soft, and puts a gentle hand on Liam’s before he seems to think better of it and pulls away. 

“Alright, love,” Nick murmurs. “Just Liam, then.” He’s smiling at Liam and he looks so soft, so genuine. There’s something about Nick—something about the way he can make an expensive party brimming with celebrities feel like home. 

Liam leans into Nick a bit, takes a breath of his cologne and closes his eyes, leaning further into Nick’s neck until he finds himself buried in it. Nick laughs and shifts a bit, but lets Liam stay. 

“You’ve had a quite a bit to drink, haven’t you?” Nick asks, bringing up one hand to stroke Liam’s hair. It feels lovely. 

Liam nods, but he can already tell he’s starting to sober up. “Feel okay, though,” he says, and Nick’s smile is warm.

They sit in silence for a few moments before Liam says, “It was great of you to come to the concert.” He feels stupid for it immediately. Nick came for Harry, of course he came for Harry. 

“I mean,” Liam corrects. “You were there for Harry, of course. But it was nice having you there, still.”

“Liam,” Nick says. His voice is so different than when he says _popstar_. He sounds softer, more intimate. It makes Liam want to bury himself in it. 

“Nick,” Liam responds, still feeling a bit stupid. But Nick just laughs, wide and kind. 

“You were incredible up there,” Nick says, and Liam is about to thank him, but Nick is still talking. “Very attentive of your audience, like, constantly working them. You’ve got so much energy, honestly.” Nick’s gaze is entirely focused on Liam, sharp and serious. “Really, Liam. You’re—just unbelievable at it. Like you were meant to do it.”

Liam can feel his face burning. “I, that’s—thank you,” he manages, wide-eyed.

Nick is turning a bit red himself, now. He says, “Just didn’t want you to think—I don’t think you’re normal.” He looks earnest and a bit pleading. 

Liam isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond to that. Before he can say anything, Nick speaks again in what Liam can only assume is an effort to power through it. 

“Just because of before, you know? The first time we met, um.” Nick seems to be physically forcing his mouth shut. 

Liam has no idea what’s going on. “What are you—” he starts, and then he remembers. Remembers the first time he met Nick, the nerves, the terror. Remembers Nick saying, “Everyone wants to be good,” remembers how sick that made him feel. 

“ _Nick_ ,” Liam says, but Nick interrupts him. 

“I know it was terrible I just—I didn’t realize and I’m really quite awful at—”

Liam can’t bear it anymore, and before he can fully think through it, he’s leaned in and pressed his lips against Nick’s. 

For a moment, Nick is still talking against Liam’s lips, but then he seems to process what’s happening and reacts without hesitation. He brings a hand up to wrap around Liam’s neck and drag him in closer, kissing him firm and wet and hot. 

It feels incredible, heavy and ecstatic and bright. Liam isn’t sure he’ll ever stop kissing Nick, isn’t sure he could pull away if he tried. Nick’s hand on his neck grounds him. Nick bites his lower lip, gentle, and then laves over it. Liam lets out a low groan. 

Then, Nick’s chapped lips move down to Liam’s neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against the delicate skin, and Liam shudders. He’s jerked back to his senses, suddenly, and he’s—god, he’s kissing _Nick Grimshaw_. He’s kissing a man.

“Nick,” Liam murmurs. His heart is thudding, and he’s not sure if it’s the result of Nick’s proximity or Liam’s own oncoming panic. “ _Nick_.”

Nick jerks back as if Liam has pushed him. His eyes are wide, lips slick and red. Liam wants to drag him back in and push him far away. He doesn’t know what to do. 

“Liam,” Nick says, cautious. He sounds almost scared. Liam has never heard him sound like that before. “Liam, it’s—are you okay?”

Liam takes a few steady breaths, doesn’t want to sound as panicked as he feels. When he says, “Maybe?” his voice is pinched but not frantic, so Liam counts it as a win. 

“Okay, that’s—” Nick pulls back, and suddenly he’s not touching Liam anywhere. It leaves Liam feeling a bit cold. “Sorry about that, I—”

“No!” Liam says immediately, and when Nick flinches, he realizes he’s just shouted a bit. He lowers his voice and puts a hand over Nick’s, says, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Nick looks unsure. He murmurs, “It’s alright if like—I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Liam still feels a bit loose from the alcohol, a bit loose from the high of kissing Nick. He can’t do anything but say, “Please come back to mine.”

Nick looks cautious, and it makes Liam feel frantic, desperate. He says, “Please, I—we don’t have to do anything, I just want you there.”

Nick closes his eyes, and Liam presses his lips together in an effort to keep from speaking. When Nick opens his eyes again, he looks resigned. 

Nick says, “You do this thing when you’re being earnest—your face is quiet unbearable.” Liam squirms, unsure, but Nick reaches out and holds his wrist. “It’s lovely, all soft and open and honest. Haven’t met many people like that, meself.” 

Nick’s voice is steady, reassuring, light as it always is. Liam looks at him silently, eyes wide and hearts thudding until Nick nods and says, “Yeah love, alright. I’ll come back with you.”

\--

That night, Nick is careful with him, is tolerant and generous when Liam touches Nick’s skin in something like wonder. Nick fucks him soft and slow against Liam’s bed and kisses Liam’s neck until he feels like he’s something new. 

\--

When Liam wakes up, Nick isn’t in bed with him. Liam feels something cold shoot through his spine, wonders if Nick left him alone. Then, he hears a clutter in the kitchen followed by a low curse, and his stomach settles again.

Liam goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is ruffled, lips bitten pink. There’s a line of bruises trailing up his collarbone and Liam shudders as he touches them and feels the phantom of Nick’s lips and teeth against his skin. 

He throws on a pair of boxers and heads downstairs, carpet soft against his bare feet. When he gets downstairs, Nick is wiping up some spilt coffee and there are two steaming plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the counter next to him.

“Hey,” Liam says, voice still sleep-rough, and Nick stands up hastily and throws the paper towel he’d been using to wipe the away the coffee in the trash. 

“Hiya,” Nick replies. “I didn’t spill any coffee.” He’s speaking directly to Liam’s chest. Liam grins and clears his throat, and Nick jerks his eyes upward to Liam’s face and blushes deeply. 

“Like what you see?” Liam asks, surprising himself with his confidence. Nick grins and pulls Liam in by the waist, kisses him slow and wet. It leaves butterflies in Liam’s stomach. 

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Think I do.”

Liam smiles, steps back. “Nice of you to make breakfast,” he says, gesturing at the plates. 

“Mm, growing boys,” Nick agrees, grabbing the plates and taking them to the kitchen table. He looks comfortable in Liam’s home, like he’s been here a million times before. “Found it all in the fridge, hope that’s okay. Harry used to eat me out of house and home—I learned to keep him well fed, especially in the morning.”

Something burns hot in Liam’s stomach at the mention of Harry, something closer to jealousy that he likes. 

Spurred by it, he puts a hand on Nick’s hip, fingers splayed wide, and reels him in to kiss him again, deep and dirty. Liam lowers his hand to Nick’s crotch, gives it a grope. Nick moans low but pulls away, moving Liam’s hand. 

“Saying no to a breakfast blowie?” Liam asks. 

Nick grins. “You can blow me later. I want to feed you.”

Liam feels warm to his bones. He nods and doesn’t say anything, is terrified of what may come out of his mouth at this moment. 

Nick picks up the plates and walks over to the kitchen table, so Liam grabs the coffee and follows him. He sits down across from Nick and feels domestic, like he could belong here. He tries to focus on that, tries not to think about everything else that’s running through his head, all the panic and worry and frantic energy.

Nick makes it easy. He talks the whole time, tells hilarious stories about his friends and his job and celebrities he’s met. What Liam underestimated about Nick, however, was his ability to make other people talk.

Liam should have known, he supposes—there’s a reason Nick is so good at his job. But he really is incredible at talking and drawing information out of Liam at the same time. Liam finds himself talking about his mom, about how much he loves writing music, about how Sophia was the most brilliant person but it just couldn’t work, not with Liam’s crazy schedule and his crazy life.

Nick is warm the whole time, watches Liam like everything Liam says is important but not a single thing is bad or surprising. Liam feels like he could say anything.

Eventually, he checks his watch and frowns. “I, um—I have to meet Louis for a writing session soon.”

Nick nods, still watching him with those steady eyes. “That’s alright, then. Wouldn’t want to halt the creative process, would I?” He stands to put the plates in the sink. “I can head out.”

“Right,” Liam manages. For the first time today, he feels a bit uncomfortable. “But, um. Would you like to give me your number, maybe? I’d really like to see you again. If that’s alright.”

Nick grins, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, Liam. Of course that’s alright.” 

Liam hands Nick his phone and Nick puts himself in as Nick, last name two emojis—the monkey covering its eyes and the eggplant.

“Nice, mate,” Liam grins. Nick laughs, loud and bright. He’s absolutely lovely. 

\--

They start texting, and soon after, they’re spending a lot of time together. They meet up at Nick’s flat to watch movies or they sneak out of clubs together, giggling and red-cheeked and high off of it, off their secret and the sex and the surprisingly sharp honesty, like while they’re sharing this secret they may as well share the rest of them, too. 

Liam falls for people too fast, he knows, but he can’t stop himself. Can’t stop himself from looking at Nick and thinking, _this is the safest I’ve ever felt and I shouldn’t have to hide a thing_. 

He does, though. Hides it for two months, then three. 

\--

“I hear they have a lovely salmon there,” Nick says, leaning back on the couch and curling a hand around Liam’s thigh. “Let’s go.”

Liam frowns, brow furrowing as he plays with Nick’s fingers. “That place is a bit high-profile, isn’t it? There’ll be pap shots of us in the papers the next day.”

It’s not anything new—they know they have to be careful. But the lines around Nick’s eyes tighten and he untangles their hands. “Wouldn’t look very good for you to be seen with me,” Nick says. 

Liam doesn’t respond, isn’t sure how he can. 

Suddenly, Nick looks tired and weary. It makes him seem old. He says, “I promised myself I wouldn’t mess around with closeted boys anymore.”

Liam pulls back, feels the air leave his lungs. “Yeah, that’s—” His voice is shaking, he can feel it. “Right,” he manages. He’s curled up into himself a bit, can’t get his body to unfurl. 

Nick looks frustrated, his hands clenching and unclenching. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “I knew what I was getting into, but—” He lets out a frustrated noise, runs a hand through his hair. 

But Liam has been thinking about it a lot—he has. He’s been afraid to say anything, unsure of what Nick wants from him and what he wants from himself. 

But when Liam says, “I think I want to come out,” it isn’t as spontaneous as it sounds. It’s from months of wishing he could show himself to the world, show Nick to the world. 

Nick’s expression is calm, which is equal parts comforting and unsettling. “What I said wasn’t pressure to come out, Liam. That’s something you need to do when you’re ready.”

Liam shakes his head, feels a bit unsteady. He wishes Nick would touch him. “That’s not why. I just—I don’t want to lie to people. Now that I know that I’m—um, bisexual,” Liam can’t believe he’s said it aloud, “I want to be able to say it.” 

Nick’s expression softens a bit, but he doesn’t argue, just says, “It won’t be easy.” He looks like he trusts Liam—trusts Liam to do what’s right. It settles something in Liam’s stomach. 

Liam smiles, murmurs, “Nothing is.” He takes a step back towards Nick.

Nick closes the gap, grasps Liam’s hips and pulls him in so that they’re pressed against each other. Liam buries his face in Nick’s neck, breathes deeply and realizes with a start that his breaths are turning wet, heavy. 

“It’s okay,” Nick murmurs, as Liam starts to cry against his neck. “It’s okay, love.”

“I’m not sad,” Liam manages to gasp between sobs. “I promise I’m not sad.”

Nick runs a hand over Liam’s hair, unbearably gentle. He smells like clean laundry and expensive cologne. “I know, babe. You’re overwhelmed. It’s alright.” 

Nick sounds gentle, confident. It makes Liam believe him. 

\--

All the boys are at the studio, but there isn’t much creative energy in the room. It feels stuffy. 

“What’re you trying to write?” Harry asks, watching as Liam scribbles hastily over a piece of paper, letting out intermediate huffs. 

“Something about a balcony,” Liam says, scratching out his writing in frustration. “About the moon hitting someone’s face and just—lighting it up.”

Louis has been staring silently at a sheet of paper, but this catches his attention. “That seems a little specific, Payno,” he says, grinning sharp. “Who’s the girl?”

Liam feels his stomach and face burn hot. His heart starts beating faster—he can hear it in his head. He could lie, he knows. It would be easy enough to come up with a story, to divert Louis’ attention. But Liam doesn’t want to, is the thing. Harry is still scribbling in a notebook and Niall and Zayn are curled up in the corner, looking at something on Niall’s phone, and Liam looks around the room and trusts them, wants them to know. He told Nick he wanted to come out and—he does. And this is the best place to start. He loves his boys more than anything. 

“It was Nick,” Liam says, and his voice is too loud for the room. “Nick Grimshaw.” He watches everyone shift, their attention snapping to him. Liam pushes through. He always pushes through. “We were on a balcony and the moon kept lighting up the side of his face and—um, well. He looked rather beautiful.”

“You—” Harry starts, but Liam isn’t ready to deal with Harry yet, so he says, “He looked beautiful, so I kissed him. And it was very nice. The nicest kiss I’ve ever had, probably.” Liam’s hands are shaking. “Then I took him home with me.”

There’s silence for a moment, and it’s Louis’ silence that scares Liam the most. Eventually, Harry speaks up. 

“Nick didn’t say anything to me,” Harry says, and he sounds a bit hurt. Liam feels bitter, suddenly, that this is Harry’s first reaction. 

“Not everything’s about you, is it, Harry?” Liam snaps, then immediately regrets it when Harry’s face falls. Liam never snaps at Harry. 

Harry runs a hand through his hair, brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean—” he starts, but Liam shakes his head before Harry can finish. 

“I know you didn’t, Haz,” Liam says. 

“Liam,” Louis says, voice too sharp. He hasn’t even glanced at Harry, hasn’t taken his eyes off Liam. “Don’t mess us about, mate.”

Liam closes his eyes, doesn’t want to look at the harsh lines of Louis’ face or the furrow of Harry’s brow. He says, “Not messing you about,” and falls silent. He wonders if everyone else in the room can hear his heart beat.

There’s a rustle in the room, then a weight next to Liam on the couch. A warm hand is placed on Liam’s thigh, gentle and firm. Zayn. Zayn doesn’t say anything, but Liam feels steadier just by his presence. 

Niall says, “Well, that’s alright, mate.” He sounds uncertain. Or is that just Liam projecting? He hates this, hates how in this moment, he isn’t sure of his boys. But Louis talking again. 

“Of course it’s okay,” Louis snaps. “What’s not okay is you never _said_ anything, Liam.” 

Liam opens his eyes to see Louis glaring at him, but there’s something wounded and soft in Louis’ face—something Liam would never have picked up on if he hadn’t known Louis so long and so well. 

“Liam,” Louis voice is softer now, but his jaw is clenched. “You know we wouldn’t—I mean, you can do better than Grimshaw, but you know—” He falls silent, looks at Liam with something almost pleading. “You just. You know.”

Liam doesn’t have anything to give him. He says, “Yeah, I know,” even though he doesn’t. Zayn curls his fingers so they’re digging into Liam’s thigh. Liam takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself, but it still feels like the earth is moving under his feet, like he doesn’t have the friction to hold on. 

Harry runs a hand through his hair and fixes his gaze on Liam, eyes intent. “It’s okay, Liam,” he says, in that way only Harry can say things—with earnest confidence, with ease, with a tenor that makes it feel like he could never be wrong, like the earth itself would shift to accommodate him. 

Liam lets out a breath and with it come the words, “I want to tell people. Like—I want to come out.” Zayn’s hand doesn’t move, and Liam puts all of his focus on that hand and on Harry’s steady gaze. 

“Then you’ll come out, babe,” Zayn says easily. His hand is still so, so steady.

Louis jerks a little, but he straightens his shoulders. “And we’ll be there with you—every step of the way.” 

Liam starts crying all fucking over again. 

\--

The woman’s face is kind. Liam isn’t sure who she is and he can’t remember the name she introduced herself with. She isn’t a PR agent they’ve ever worked with before, so their management must have gone out and hired someone for this specifically. 

“Frankly,” the woman says in a tone that implies simple business, “This can only damage your band. A bisexual member isn’t likely to gain One Direction any new fans, and it will probably distance some of your young female fanbase and their parents.”

She’s probably right, is the thing. She’s said this nearly a dozen times now, and Liam is mostly convinced. Coming would only damage the band, isn’t worth the chaos it would bring, is something to be considered again at a much later date. Before Liam can say anything, Louis stands up, eyes bright and sharp. 

The boys have stayed mostly quiet throughout the meeting, but they had clearly been growing more and more agitated the longer the meeting had gone on. Now, Louis says, “The thing is, not everything is about business. We’re not asking your permission for Liam to come out—we’re saying that Liam will be coming out and that now, as people who work for us, it’s your job to deal with the publicity. Come up with a plan before our next meeting, thank you very much.” 

And with that, Louis orders, “Come on, boys,” and marches out the room. 

Everyone stares after Louis in shocked silence for a moment until Niall, who looks anxious but is smiling just slightly, stands up and follows Louis out. Zayn stands up next, and then Harry gets up and grabs Liam’s wrist to drag Liam with him, managing a weak “Thank you,” to the woman on the way out. 

Once they’re out in the hallway, they follow Louis to an empty, carpeted room. Louis locks the door behind them and they all sit down in a circle on the floor, Harry with a hand on Liam’s knee and Zayn with one around Liam’s waist. 

It reminds Liam of the X-Factor for a single, blinding moment. The five of them coming together, feeling like it was them against the world, huddling close in empty rooms to regroup. Liam trusts, suddenly, that they’ll always come back to this. That they’ll always be this way—inseparably, inexorably _together_. 

They’re silent for a few moments, and then Louis says, “Not like we can’t afford to lose a few fans, mate,” in that brash way he has.

Harry murmurs, “The fans who’d leave aren’t particularly the fans we’d want anyway, are they?”

Liam curls up, buries his head in his knees. He knows they’re trying to take care of him, but—he needs to take care of them. “I don’t want to hurt the band,” he whispers. 

Zayn drops his head onto Liam’s shoulder, so his breath fans against Liam’s neck. “It’d be worth it, babe,” he says, soft.

Niall has been quiet so far, but now he says, “You’re more important than some publicity bullshit, Liam.” His eyes are steady. 

Liam takes a deep breath and whispers, “Love you boys,” and before it’s even fully out, he’s got four boys crawling on top of him.

\--

Liam thought he’d be ecstatic, telling Nick he’s actually doing it, but Nick just looks serious. It makes Liam realize how big a thing this really is. 

“Yeah, they’ll—” Liam pauses, takes a deep breath to steady himself. “The paps will be on my back for a while. They’ll be—desperate for anything. To connect me to anyone.”

Nick pulls away from Liam a bit and Liam resists the urge to put on a hand on Nick’s hip, pull him back in.

“It’ll be bad publicity for you to be seen with me, then,” Nick says. His voice is steady, as unbothered as the first time he said it. Liam is always surprised by how good Nick is at that, at holding it all in. But Liam is getting better at telling when Nick’s faking it. 

Liam reaches out, cautious, and when Nick doesn’t move away from Liam’s touch, he pulls him in, puts his mouth against Nick’s shoulder and murmurs, “That’s not the point. I just don’t want you to get caught up in all the bullshit that follows me around.” Liam takes a breath, clenches Nick’s shirt between his fingers. “I’m not ashamed to be seen with you—I’d love that. To be around you. In public.”

Nick is silent for a while, and Liam just keeps breathing into Nick’s shoulder, can’t work up the courage to look into his face. Then, Nick says quietly, “I would love to seen with you, too, Liam Payne.” 

Liam looks up, finds Nick watching him intently. “Yeah?” he breathes.

Nick nods, lifts a hand to run it through Liam’s hair. “Yeah,” Nick murmurs, faze soft. Then, his face turns serious again, and he says, “I don’t mean a public relationship, it’s quite early for that, but—to just be able to spend time together in public.”

Liam nods, grips Nick’s hand in his and can’t believe how lucky he is, how everything is turning out okay. “Yeah, that’s what I want, too.” Then, Liam thinks about what that’ll be like for Nick—what it’ll really entail—and he feels suddenly exhausted. He sighs, “You may decide you want nothing to do with me after that, anyway.”

Nick smiles, but it looks empty. “They’ll say I’ve turned you,” he says. Liam nods, looks down when his eyes start to sting.

“Hey, hey,” Nick murmurs, putting his fingers under Liam’s chin and bringing his face back up. “You think I haven’t dealt with some homophobic comments before? I don’t _care_ , Liam. I don’t care about any of it.” Nick smiles and it looks real this time. 

“I know who I am. I’m not ashamed of a single fucking thing,” Nick says.

Liam watches Nick silently for a moment, sees how beautiful he is when he’s like this—bright-eyed and open-faced and a little sleepy, hair ruffled and soft. He looks confident. He looks like not a single person on earth could even make him falter. 

Liam says, “Me neither,” and believes it, in this moment, with Nick’s brightness seeping into his skin. He really, really believes it.

\--

1 YEAR LATER

For a while, Liam’s coming doesn’t mean finding himself. It means statements and magazine interviews and invasive questions and lots and lots of meetings. It’s a lot of honesty and a couple of lies, it’s his boys circling around him and protecting him with the kind of focused intensity he could only ever expect from them, from these lads who love him with the same immediate, unmoving loyalty he has for them. 

It’s Louis stopping meetings short, Niall cracking jokes and teaching Liam to play the guitar, Zayn’s quiet cuddles and reassurances at night when Liam wonders if it _is_ too much, and Harry staying close all the time, touching Liam on stage like saying, _Nothing is different_ and _It’s okay_. 

Mostly, it’s Nick. It’s Nick telling Liam that he’s the same person, that he doesn’t need to change himself but he does need to educate himself. It’s curling up with Nick on the couch and watching bad movies and swapping lazy blowjobs. It’s apologizing when he gets papped at a restaurant with Nick and Nick ends up with a slew of abuse from magazines and social media sites. Nick brushes off Liam’s apologies and pushes him back against the couch, murmuring, “Worth it,” into Liam’s mouth. 

It’s amazing—ecstatic and all-encompassing and eventually, comfortable and steady. It’s wonderful dates and awful arguments and soft apologies. 

And a year later, it’s Nick and Liam backstage before an interview, Nick gripping Liam’s hand so hard it hurts and whispering, “Are you sure? God, are you _absolutely_ sure?”

Liam squeezes Nick’s hand, uses his free hand to grab Nick’s hip and pull him closer, press a soft kiss to his cheek, his chin, and finally his lips. 

“Yeah, babe,” Liam murmurs against Nick’s mouth. “I really want this. Do you?”

Nick sighs, shoulders dropping, and kisses Liam again, short and fierce. “Yeah, I want this. Of course.”

Liam feels like his heart is too full to bear it. Nick must see it in Liam’s face, because the last bit of tension around his eyes smooths out and he wipes a thumb over Liam’s cheek, soft. 

Liam presses one more kiss to Nick’s lips before Louis barges into the room and says, “Alright, lovebirds, that’s more than enough private time. Everyone’s going crazy looking for you and Harry is doing an _awful_ job covering for you.”

Liam grins, imagines Harry trying to lie to all the managers and producers that must be hounding the boys right now. He turns to Nick. “You ready?”

Nick smiles, and he looks beautiful. Liam can’t wait to tell the world that this man is his. Can’t wait for this interview with just him and Nick saying “Here we are.” 

When Liam and Nick walk out of the empty room they had found, Harry is dimpling ineffectively at a producer who looks largely unimpressed and Niall is throwing a deck of cards at Ian, who’s laughing and ducking behind Aimee while she ignores him and keeps up her conversation with Zayn, Colette, and Daisy. 

Liam watches these wonderful, unbelievable people and then looks at Nick’s equally awed face and feels the last nerves in his stomach settle. He leans into Nick to murmur, “I love you,” and feels it so deeply he doesn’t know how he can stand it. 

Nick smiles back at him, blinding. “I love you,” Nick says, and Liam feels full with it, knows how long it took Nick to say it and how much it means. 

Liam smiles wide and takes Nick’s hand, and then they walk towards the stage.

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with me on tumblr at [memaidsbush](mermaidsbush.tumblr.com)
> 
> if you want to reblog a tumblr post for this fic, it's [here](http://mermaidsbush.tumblr.com/post/132967298067/make-this-feel-like-home-relationship-liamnick)!


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